Maria slowly opened her eyes, her vision blurred and hazy. Shapes gradually came into focus—people standing around her bed, their faces red and swollen, and their eyes drenched in worry and silent sorrow. The heavy silence hung in the air like a storm refusing to break.
Her fingers twitched slightly, and she felt something warm beneath her hand. She turned her head weakly and saw Alex sitting beside her, elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. His body trembled with suppressed sobs.
She tried to speak. "A...lex..." her voice barely a whisper. He didn't hear her. She felt... lighter—too light. Something was wrong.
Her hand slowly drifted down to her stomach.
And then she froze.
There was nothing.
A silence filled her soul that screamed louder than any sound ever could.
Her breath caught. She looked at Alex again, desperation rising in her voice. "Alex... where is... where is my baby?"
Alex looked up, his eyes bloodshot, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He just stared at her, devastated.
Maria saw the truth in his silence.
"No..." she whispered. "No—NO!"
Her cries echoed through the mansion, haunting, piercing, and shaking everyone to their core.
"My baby! MY BABY!"
The walls of the duchy trembled with her screams. The servants fell to their knees in tears. The guards lowered their heads. Even the maids who had seen war and death could not hold their sobs.
The entire North, once alive with the joy of an heir on the way, fell into a heavy, dreadful silence. The news spread like wildfire:
The Northern Duchess lost her child—poisoned.
But no one knew who had done it.
Maria refused to accept the truth. Each day, she wandered the grand halls of the mansion, searching every corner, calling for her baby. Her eyes were empty, haunted. She spoke to walls, to shadows, to herself. People tried to stop her, to comfort her—but her mind was slipping, unraveling like delicate silk thread.
And then came the cruelest rumor of all:
The Duke had murdered his own child for his mistress.
They said he left to meet her that day, abandoning his wife, neglecting her, causing this catastrophe.
Alex, wrapped in grief and buried in guilt, had no time to fight the rumors. His world was already falling apart in his hands. And as Maria slowly began to lose her mind, losing touch with reality, the doctor issued a chilling warning.
"If she stays here, she might try to end it all again."
Because she already had.
One cold morning, while everyone was distracted, Maria wandered up to the balcony—the same one where she once waited for Alex with a smile, dreaming of their future. She stood on the railing, arms out like wings... and jumped.
Screams filled the air.
Doctors were summoned. By some miracle, she survived. But barely.
That night, with pain tearing his heart apart, Alex sat alone and made the hardest decision of his life.
He couldn't leave the North, not with tensions rising and enemies watching. He couldn't protect Maria here. And so, he did what he thought would save her.
He ordered the doctors to erase her memories.
"Take it all away," he whispered. "Take away every memory that hurts her. If she can't remember the pain, maybe she can live."
The surgery was long. When Maria woke up, she was a shell of her former self. No light in her eyes. No laughter. No tears. Nothing.
The divorce was finalized.
Marquise Morgan arrived to take her away. Elisha came to bid her farewell, eyes wet, unable to speak.
Alex never came.
He stood at his office window, watching the carriage pull away.
Then, something caught his eye—an envelope in his drawer. He opened it. It was Maria's handwriting.
As he read, everything came crashing down.
He remembered her laughter. Her dreams. The way she waited for him by the balcony. The way she'd held his hand when she first told him she was pregnant. The way she looked at him was like he was her entire world.
And then he realized—
The happiest moments of his life were with her.
They weren't just memories. They were everything.
Without hesitation, Alex ran from his office. People called after him, confused and alarmed. But he didn't stop.
He jumped on his horse, riding through the wind like a man possessed, chasing the carriage.
He caught up.
He banged on the window, breathless. Marquise Morgan opened it, surprised.
Alex didn't wait. He reached inside, took Maria's hand, and spoke through the trembling in his voice.
"The time I spent with you… It was the happiest and most precious part of my life.
That time was real. It wasn't a lie.
My heart, my everything, was yours.
Maria, I love you.
With all my heart. With all my soul. With everything I have.
I'm not saying this to hold you back. I just need you to know…
Those days, our days—they were real.
So your heart wasn't a lie.
Your love wasn't a lie.
You are the most precious person in the world to me.
Thank you... for loving someone like me."
Elisha stood nearby, tears pouring down her face. The guards turned away, unable to bear the weight of his words.
The carriage began to move again.
Alex let go.
But then—
A voice.
Soft. Broken. Familiar.
"Alex!"
He turned.
Maria had leaned out the window, her tear-stained face shining in the sun.
Her voice cracked.
"Alex..."
She remembered.
....
Inside the bedroom,
The room was still, draped in silence, as if time itself had paused to witness the moment.
Maria sat on the edge of the bed, the warm glow of candlelight flickering across her delicate face. Her eyes, once empty and lost, now held a storm—a whirlpool of confusion, sadness, and fear. She looked at the man in front of her, the man who had been a stranger in her mind until now.
Alex sat across from her, head bowed, unable to meet her eyes. His hands trembled in his lap, clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
He began to speak.
His voice was soft. Broken.
"You were everything to me, Maria. You still are.
The love we shared, the life we dreamed of, our baby…
I remember every second. Every smile. Every touch.
When we lost our child, I saw your soul break right in front of me. And I couldn't fix it.
I tried—I tried everything. But I was powerless."
He swallowed hard, his voice shaking.
"You stopped eating. You stopped sleeping. You walked the halls, calling for our baby like she was still here.
And then one day… You jumped.
You tried to end it all."
Maria's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled against the bedsheets, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.
Alex lifted his face slightly, the candlelight revealing trails of silent tears on his cheeks.
"The doctors said you wouldn't survive another fall. They said your mind was breaking, Maria. I had to choose—watch you fade away… or try to save what was left of you.
So I chose to erase the pain.
To protect you…
Even if it meant losing you."
His voice cracked on those last words, and he looked down again, ashamed. The weight of all those years—the silence, the rumors, the unbearable loneliness—pressed down on him.
Maria didn't move.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Her eyes searched his face, and something stirred deep inside her.
She saw it then.
Not the duke.
Not the man everyone else saw.
She saw him.
The man who held her as she laughed.
The man who wept beside her hospital bed.
The man who once whispered their baby's name like a prayer.
And she saw his pain—the kind that didn't scream, but bled quietly behind closed doors.
Without a word, Maria reached forward and gently lifted his chin. She saw the tears he was trying to hide.
And then she wrapped her arms around him.
Alex froze for a moment.
Then he broke.
He buried his face into her shoulder and sobbed—raw, unfiltered, years of agony spilling from his chest. Maria held him tightly, her own tears falling silently as she stroked his hair, as if trying to hold him together, piece by piece.
In that moment, they weren't a Duke and Duchess.
They were just two shattered souls clinging to each other in a storm.
Two hearts that had been torn apart by fate, rumors, tragedy—and still found their way back.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered into her shoulder, again and again.
"I'm so sorry…"
Maria said nothing. She just held him closer, her tears mixing with his, her heart aching for all the years they had lost—lost time, lost memories, lost love.
They wept together.
For their child.
For the lies.
For the love they couldn't protect.
For the pain they both endured in silence.
It was not a moment of forgiveness.
It was not yet healing.
But it was something real.
A shared sorrow.
A shared love.
A beginning—born from the ashes of everything they lost.
And for the first time in years, the cold, broken walls of that room echoed not with screams, but with the quiet sounds of a love too deep to ever truly vanish.
The room was quiet. The kind of quiet that feels heavy, like it's holding its breath.
Alex and Maria stayed in each other's arms, tangled in the warmth of a love that had survived a storm too cruel to name. His arms wrapped around her tightly, almost as if he feared she might vanish again. Maria rested against his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, feeling his heartbeat — steady, alive, familiar.
They didn't speak for a while.
Because in that moment, words were too small.
They were simply two souls, trying to breathe inside the wreckage of memories, pain, and what-ifs. And yet, in that silence, they found something… peace, even if fleeting. A breath. A second chance.
Outside the door, Oliver stood hidden in the shadows. His eyes were wide, his chest tight with emotions he couldn't name. He had heard everything. The forgotten past. The unbearable loss. The sacrifice Alex made. The pain Maria endured. His heart ached for both of them.
Inside, Maria gently lifted her head, her voice a whisper.
"Alex… Who was it?"
She paused. "Who did this to me? Who… killed my child?"
Alex tensed. He didn't answer.
Maria placed her hand on his cheek. "Please," she whispered, "I need to know."
His jaw tightened. He looked away, his eyes shimmering again, but Maria didn't let go. "Tell me."
Finally, with a deep, broken breath, Alex said, "After the incident… I locked down the entire Northern border. No one was allowed to leave. I ordered the guards to search every corner of the mansion. Every room. Every servant's quarters. The kitchens. Even the stables."
Maria's eyes were locked onto his, waiting.
"In the backyard… a small glass bottle was found, hidden beneath a patch of earth behind the greenhouse," Alex continued. "When the doctor examined it… It was the same poison that had been mixed in your juice."
He swallowed hard, the memory still raw.
"We did a thorough headcount and realized… one guard and a maid were missing. The commander and I immediately launched a search. The people of the North joined us. Everyone was furious. They had celebrated our childlike, their own."
Maria clutched his arm tightly, tears welling again. "And… did you find them?"
Alex nodded solemnly. "We found the guard's body in the eastern forest. His hands were broken. His face… barely recognizable. They tortured him. For information about me… and our mansion. He died protecting us, Maria."
Maria gasped softly, one hand flying to her mouth.
"And the maid?" she asked, trembling.
"We found her two days later… hiding in an old inn at the edge of the northern cliffs. Before we could arrest her… she drank something and collapsed."
Maria's body tensed. "She killed herself?"
Alex nodded again. His voice cracked. "But before she died… she whispered something."
Maria's eyes widened. "What did she say?"
Alex went silent. He looked away.
"Alex?" she begged, her voice shaking. "What did she say?"
Before he could speak… the door creaked open.
And there stood Marquise Morgan, Maria's father.
His face was pale. His eyes were hollow. But his presence carried weight — a storm behind silent eyes.
He stepped in slowly and said, quietly but clearly, "She said… I was the one who ordered it."
The world stopped.
Maria's eyes froze on her father. Her body stiffened.
"No…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "No…"
She turned to Alex, hoping — pleading — for him to deny it, to laugh and say it wasn't true.
But he didn't.
He just looked at her. Broken. Helpless.
Maria stumbled backward, tears pouring down her cheeks.
"Alex… tell me this isn't true. Please… tell me he's lying."
Alex opened his mouth… but the words wouldn't come.
Because it wasn't a lie.
Maria turned to her father. "Why?" she cried. "Why? You're my father!"
Marquise Morgan took a step forward, but Maria backed away.
"Why did you do it?!" she screamed.
His lips trembled. "They pressured me… the Central Nobles. They… they said the North was becoming too powerful. That your child would tip the balance forever. They… they told me I had to…"
"So you chose them over me?" she yelled, voice breaking. "Over your own daughter? Your grandchild?!"
Morgan dropped to his knees. "I didn't… I didn't mean for it to go that far. I never wanted this. I—I couldn't even do it myself… I just…"
Maria collapsed to the floor. "You… betrayed me."
Her voice cracked like glass. "You knew how much I wanted this child. You saw me cry for him, talk to him, dream about him…"
She shook her head violently, sobbing. "You were supposed to protect me. And you took everything from me."
Alex moved to her, gently trying to pull her into his arms, but she pushed him away, crawling to the wall, covering her face, weeping. "I have nothing left…"
The room was filled with the sound of her crying — raw, agonized, helpless.
Morgan was still on the floor, whispering, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
But the words meant nothing now.
Oliver stood outside, tears rolling down his face.
Alex walked slowly to Maria, knelt beside her again, and this time, she didn't push him away.
He pulled her close. She collapsed into his arms, crying harder than she ever had.
He kissed her hair, his own tears falling freely. "I'm here… I'll always be here…"
They held each other again.
But now, the warmth felt colder. The pain cut deeper. And the love they clung to was the only thing keeping them from falling apart completely.
And in that moment — full of grief, betrayal, and shattered trust — they cried for their child, their love, and everything that had been taken from them.
Maria trembled in Alex's arms, her soul barely holding itself together. Her chest heaved with sobs that didn't seem to end — because nothing made sense anymore. Her world, once filled with love and dreams, now stood shattered at her feet.
Her father knelt just feet away, his head bowed in shame and grief.
But then Alex spoke, his voice quiet — steady but soft, like a balm over raw wounds.
"Maria…" he whispered, brushing the hair from her tear-streaked face, "There's more you need to know. What you heard just now… it wasn't the whole truth."
Maria looked up, eyes swollen, breath caught.
Alex glanced at Marquise Morgan, then back at her. "Yes, your father came to the North. Yes, he brought poison with him… but he didn't do it."
Maria blinked. "W-What?"
Alex gently held her hands. "He was under immense pressure from the Central Nobles. They were threatening him… threatening you. They wanted to weaken our alliance, to stop the child from being born, because they feared the unity it would bring between our houses — between the North and Central. Your father… he was trapped."
Morgan's shoulders shook as he sat there, silent tears falling to the floor.
Alex continued, "He brought the poison, yes. But he couldn't do it. He hid it, hoping no one would find it. He was trying to find another way… trying to protect you, in the only way he knew."
Maria looked at her father — eyes filled with disbelief and confusion, but something else too… hope.
"But then who…?" she asked softly. "Who poisoned me?"
Alex's eyes darkened. "It was… Celestia."
Maria's lips parted in shock. "Celestia? My… my sister?"
He nodded, gently. "The maid who died — she wasn't from the North. After we checked her background thoroughly, we discovered she had come from outside, under a false identity. She was working for someone—someone who had access to the inside, someone who knew you… and hated what you had."
Maria's voice cracked. "But… why?"
Alex looked down, pain flickering in his eyes. "Celestia envied you. Envy our love. Envied the peace we created together. The power you were about to wield as a future queen. She believed you didn't deserve it… that she should've been the one."
Maria's body went numb.
She stared at the floor, feeling the last threads of her reality coming undone.
"But your father," Alex said, holding her hand tighter, "He didn't know what she was planning. He came with guilt, with regret… but not with hatred. He never wanted to harm you."
Maria slowly turned to look at her father — still on his knees, sobbing silently.
"Father…" she whispered.
Morgan looked up, his eyes red, lips trembling.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice cracking. "I should've protected you. I should've told you everything. I should've—"
Maria didn't let him finish.
She crawled to him and threw her arms around his shoulders.
He broke.
He sobbed into her hair like a broken man — a father who had made mistakes, but never stopped loving his child. Maria clung to him, both of them crying uncontrollably. Years of distance, pain, and misunderstandings melted in that single embrace.
"I'm sorry, my child… I never wanted to lose you."
"And I… I needed you," Maria whispered through tears. "All this time, I needed my father."
Alex stepped back slightly, allowing the moment to breathe.
The coldness in the room slowly began to lift, replaced by the warmth of forgiveness — of long-buried love finally finding its way back.
Outside, Oliver watched silently — eyes misted, his heart full.
For the first time in what felt like forever, a broken family began to heal.
And as the sun gently spilled through the curtains of the room, it illuminated them — a daughter in her father's arms, a lover standing strong beside them — a new beginning rising from the ashes of a cruel past.